the night before:
5 yellow roses for 5 delicious years. but how, i wondered, would i afford 50 roses in 2040?!?!
then, wine&shrimp&talk.
later, dinner in the greenhouse. magic mountain wine sweetly and lovingly lingered over. a meal with magic wine. moody love.
that day:
a foggy morning. a trip to the lost garden.
on the way, sonny and cher "i got you babe" (because before we pay our rent our money's always spent) and james brown "respect me" (respect me but first you gotta respect yo'self).
morning: ritual.
five years ago it was the roman catholic church. now it is just us. (but what else, really, do you need?)
a walk to the altar. earth, air, water, and fire are invoked. we pour wine delicately into each other's mouths. we tear off hunks of bread and feed each other. libations offered to the spirits around us.
we speak our vows to each other.
invoke/vows/saliva/touch
owl hoots. rain drips. fog creeps.
kiss/taste/good/forever
hand in hand we walk the length of the lost garden. spider webs surround us. we walk barefoot in the wet grass. we hold hands tightly. no words only just a soft "watch out" when silk spider webs drift close.
then, wishes at the end of the walk. he wishes me happiness. i wish for 50 roses in 2040 and both of us there to enjoy them.
serious smooching.
on the way home: jazz. "sweet lorraine"..."night in tunisia"..."almost like being in love"..."i love you, juanita!"
even later, another ritual. a different altar. more private.
then, the blues cruise. blues with a feelin'.
yes. YES. too much sugar for a dime...
i know it, sweet sister sing it again!
still later, jazz again. the pocket big band. outrageous flirting and daring exploits around us. we smile knowingly at one another & my friends look at us with wonder saying only: "you two have the same mannerisms!"
the jazz vocalist does a rendition of cole porter and we mouth to each other: "i get no kick from champagne/ pure alcohol doesn't thrill me at all/ but i get a KICK out of you..."
and somehow we move together in the crowd. we gesture and sing silently to one another lips move and no one else notices our words...
then in a post-jazz whirl: a love palace sushi bar where everyone looks at each other with glistening eyes. couples lean in & touch foreheads whispering over their anago, futomaki, ebi...the hostess comments on his svelte figure & my beaming face and we only giggle in return.
we leave in a blaze of glory: i ride, perched on his back. he runs me out to the car laughing crazily because i am chewing on his ear and i know like i've known for the last 10+ years that it drives him NUTS...
finally: sweet sleep.
and that is how i got married again.
copyright 1995 by jewel (Julieann M. Brown-Micko)
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